


Keys

by Iamari



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Marvel, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 17:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1518980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamari/pseuds/Iamari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Black Widow remembering Winter Soldier, his lack of memories and their past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keys

He doesn’t remember. He can’t. The memories were taken from him like one takes the bits of string and rocks that children hoard as treasure, kept in tiny boxes and hidey holes safe from the adults who won’t understand the importance of such things. In the end, it did not matter; he could not hide them. They were not merely taken, but the very knowledge of their existence was removed. No hiding allowed. 

When he was hollow and empty, he was put into the cold; everything slowed to a crawl, every thought. Every breath. Every beat of his heart. Slowed to a near still. They had to, because without memory we have no reference for friend or enemy, for right or wrong. He became intractable and uncontrollable. A body. Not even that; a machine. He became what they made him. A killing machine. A soldier. The Soldier. The Winter Soldier…free of all emotion. Nothing but a mission. 

I didn’t see that. I’m not sure how I would have felt. I might have been pleased, once upon a time. When I was as hollowed out and husked, not too dissimilar except for different reasons. But as it was, I was long since gone. Chased away by demons of my own, determined to never again be beholden, however lightly, to another person. 

But it wasn’t always like that. For a time, he was the only source of warmth I knew. The one thing that drew a smile to my lips, that touched my eyes. I wasn’t as good at faking that then as I am now. His touch was healing and light and strength and passion. He gave me purpose and reason beyond duty and missions. They hadn’t managed yet to snuff the light within him. Something different than any of us. Something that could not be touched or defined, but was felt in his gaze and proximity as if it leaked from his very pores. 

Looking back now, it’s clear. You can’t stifle the kind of soul that would willingly sacrifice himself for a higher purpose. You can hide it, lock it up, but you cannot extinguish it. Even then..he had that about him. Even when his fingers dripped blood and his eyes were dark with righteous duty, it was there. I think that’s why it haunts him now. Still. It always will. No one will ever understand that. What we are capable of. What we regret. They think they understand, but they can’t begin to understand. No one will ever fear the dark the way we do, because we know the dark cannot be escaped anymore than we could shed our own skin. 

Sometimes I think even he can’t understand. He who was tricked into this nightmare. Only by removing his anchor could they turn him into what he became. He was kicking and screaming and fighting as they ripped the keys to his mind out of his grasp and wrenched the lock. 

I gave them the keys. 

I walked through the door without a backward glance. 

…the same way I walked away and left him there.


End file.
